


the shape of the love we share

by annella



Series: how rare and beautiful [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annella/pseuds/annella
Summary: When Rufus finds out that Tseng didn’t return from the Northern Crater, he struggles to deal with the loss of his Turk.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: how rare and beautiful [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989199
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50





	the shape of the love we share

**Author's Note:**

> Advent Children fic, following on from ‘how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist’. Mostly I needed to write this one for myself; it’s got some heavy themes but follows canon so it has a happy ending. :)
> 
> It’s not required that you read the story before this but I do recommend it.

Tseng did not return.

Nothing could have prepared Rufus for the news. It wasn’t right; Tseng had had months to come to terms with Rufus’ mortality, his inevitable death, and all the air was sucked out of the room when he heard Reno’s words after he and Rude returned from their mission to the north without two of their party.

_ Attacked … Tseng and Elena … don’t know who they were … we succeeded but … _

Unfair, unfair, unfair. It was unfair, and Rufus stood without a word, his legs wobbly and weakened, and made his slow, stumbling way to the privacy of his rooms. He could hear Reno and Rude trying to talk to him; the words were a buzz of sound in the thrumming heartbeat filling Rufus’ ears. 

His own heartbeat, stronger than it should be, still beating while Tseng’s had faltered.

His hands shook as he poured himself a glass of bourbon, knowing how badly he would react to it and not caring. He almost dropped the tumbler when he raised it to his lips, frantically gulping the amber liquid. It burned, almost choking him, fire burning down his throat, and his legs gave way, dropping him to the floor next to his bed in an ungainly heap.

Tseng was  _ gone. _

~~~

A few days after Rufus’ diagnosis, Tseng left one morning and didn't return until dark, slipping into Rufus' bed after he had turned in for the night. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered in the private, quiet darkness of their shared bedroom high above the growing towers of Edge. "I needed—I needed to think about everything."

"And?" Rufus had his arms around Tseng, stroking up and down his broad back, and he tightened his grip. A sudden fear struck him; they'd both seen people succumb to geostigma, and they knew what was in store for Rufus. Perhaps Tseng had realised he couldn't deal with it, perhaps he thought to make his life easier by abandoning Rufus to a wasting death. Surely not; not after almost a decade together. Tseng was a better man than that. 

As if sensing his worries, Tseng propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at Rufus, his expression unreadable in the darkness. "I will never leave you," he said softly, touching Rufus' face with the backs of his fingers, gently stroking down his cheek. "Never, no matter what."

"You'd better not," Rufus replied, covering Tseng's hand with his own. "But this is only going to get worse."

"Yes."

"I'm going to die."

Tseng flinched, and his hand trembled. "That's not certain."

"You think we can find a cure?"

Silence. Tseng exhaled loudly. "If anyone can… we can. I have not given up on you."

Rufus pulled him in for a kiss, and there was no more talking that night. The next morning, they started to plan. 

~~~

“Rufus!” Reno called from outside the door. They’d heard him fall, but he didn’t reply. He wanted Tseng, wanted his Turk to come and help him up, his strong arms lifting Rufus to his feet and carrying him to the bed. 

He would never feel Tseng’s arms around him again, would never have those gentle hands touching him, soothing him, loving him.

He didn’t even realise he’d broken the tumbler until he saw red starting to pool on the floor where he lay. Shattered shards of crystal decorated it, and he stared at it, stared at his lacerated hand. He supposed he should feel some pain, but nothing could penetrate the ache filling his heart.

“Break the door down,” Reno said, and Rufus heard the solid sounds of a boot against the lock. They would be inside in moments, but what did Rufus care if they saw him like this? 

Inky black ichor swirled through the growing pool of blood, and Rufus realised the lesions covering his arm had opened up. He felt detached as he watched it. Tseng would chide him for it, telling him to take more care, and Rufus would nod, looking away as his Turk cleaned his arm, his touch so deft and sure.

~~~

“You need to be more careful,” Tseng said, his voice quiet as he carefully unwrapped the bandages swathed around Rufus’ torso. Rufus stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the trees just visible outside the window, trying not to flinch as the bandages stuck on his lesions, tugging on the open wounds. He didn’t want to look down, didn’t want to see how much they had spread: black streaks spreading across his torso like a child’s finger painting, every day creeping a bit further, cutting a bit deeper. Today he had made the mistake of thinking he was up for some light exercise, and joined Rude on his morning jog.

He hadn’t realised until they were almost back at the Lodge how badly he’d misjudged things, and Rude had to help him slowly walk the remaining distance, concern on his face as black stains seeped through Rufus’ clothing. 

By the time they got back, he was leaning heavily on Rude’s arm, and managed to get a glimpse of Tseng’s unguarded face when they staggered through the door. Concern, distress, fear—so much fear, it was like a knife in Rufus’ guts—before he managed to pull up a mask and took over from Rude to get Rufus into his room.

“I was worried,” Tseng chided, and Rufus mumbled an apology. He didn’t know what he’d do without Tseng. His concern should have been cloying, but the exquisite care with which Tseng cleaned him up and covered him with fresh bandages made Rufus’ heart clench, and he could never be angry with him for caring too much. Those slender fingers stroked his bare back, tracing patterns of scars and freckles before moving up to his shoulders and digging in to massage away his tension.

He reached back and put a hand over Tseng’s. His Turk paused in his ministrations, shifting closer and kissing the nape of Rufus’ neck before continuing to rub his tired muscles.

~~~

“Dammit,” Reno muttered, his voice distant as the lock splintered and he and Rude pushed the door open. Rufus stared blankly, his chest aching so badly he could barely draw breath, the line between the pain of the geostigma and the pain of his loss blurring. 

“Help me get him up,” Rude said, and Rufus made no move to help as they each took one side and lifted him to the bed. He stared at the ceiling as they removed the dressings on his arm, cleaned him up, and rebandaged him, casting a quick Cure over him to heal the bloody cuts on his hand. 

If only Cure worked on the heart. 

“Can we, uh, get you anything, Sir?” Rude asked. Rufus shook his head, curling onto his side to face away from the door. Tseng would have stayed with him despite his protests, would lie behind him, his warm hand comforting on Rufus’ back. 

His body shook as the door closed. There was a burning in his eyes, his throat, and he let out a choked sob. Was this how Tseng had felt? What he had feared? How had he dealt with the crushing, horrific knowledge of his lover’s mortality?

Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and he clutched at Tseng’s pillow, trying to breathe in his scent as sobs wracked his body, ugly, messy, loud, and seemingly without end. 

He must have slept at some point, exhaustion taking over his ruined body, because the next thing he noticed was the darkness of the room, shafts of light filtering in through the damaged door, the sound of quiet voices in the main room of the lodge. 

Perhaps he could just sleep forever. He only had a few months left to live, didn’t he? What even was the point, now that Tseng was gone? The work he had been doing paled, vanished into obscurity, as Rufus Shinra contemplated returning to the Planet to join his Turk.

_ They need you, _ Tseng’s voice seemed to say in his head.  _ You can’t just give up. You’ve worked so hard. _

There was work to do, and Rufus did not have time to mourn.

The next morning, he summoned Reno and Rude to his side to hear their full report, his face stoic and blank. He would not allow this to hinder his progress, his drive to find a cure, especially considering the success they had had in their mission.

_ Success. _

“Call Cloud,” he instructed. “And for the next step in our plan, I will require your assistance.”

~~~

It had been hate at first sight. Tseng abhorred Rufus—a spoiled, petulant brat with a sizable chip on his shoulder and a burning hatred towards his father. Rufus saw Tseng as nothing more than a lapdog, doing whatever he was told by his precious boss. Forced together by Tseng’s assignment as Rufus’ bodyguard, it was only the knowledge that if it wasn’t Tseng, it would be another Turk assigned to him, that eventually stopped Rufus' efforts to dispose of him.

How things had changed.

“How many times did you try to have me killed?” Tseng asked as they lay in bed together, their naked bodies intertwined, sweat still glistening on Rufus’ brow from the sex they’d had not so long ago. 

“At least three,” Rufus confessed. “But then I realised how pointless that was.”

“Hmm. I only noticed one of those attempts. And it was terrible.” Tseng rolled over to face him, pushing his hair back. He’d been growing it out since taking on the role of Rufus’ bodyguard, and it was now just long enough to tie back. Rufus was quite fond of it, and reached up to comb his fingers through the black locks.

“I suppose I was only being half-hearted about it.” He tightened his grip on Tseng’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Although it had only been about half an hour since his orgasm, he found himself becoming aroused again just from having Tseng pressed close to him like this, the long lean lines of his body sensuously wrapped around Rufus’, and he rolled them over so Tseng was on his back. 

He looked gorgeous like this, his hair spread out across the white satin pillow, his pale skin smooth and unblemished save for the scar on his shoulder. He smiled up at Rufus, shifting his hips to press their cocks together, and Rufus grunted, spreading his legs and straddling his Turks’ narrow hips.

That was the first time he thought of Tseng as his.  _ His Turk.  _

~~~

Tseng was alive. Alive, and looking a little battered, but he was alive, he was  _ there, _ he was cradling Rufus’ head in his lap as Rufus lay on the side of the road, gasping for breath. Tseng’s hand was gentle on his forehead, tears running down his face and dropping onto the bandages covering Rufus’ eye. Pointless bandages now, and he reached up to rip them off, his disguise no longer needed. He wanted to see Tseng’s face with both eyes, and his vision swam for a moment as he focused. 

He didn’t care that they were in the middle of a street, panicked people running past them, the sounds of destruction echoing in the distance. His Turk was alive and he was  _ here. _ He reached up and tugged Tseng down for a kiss, desperate and flavoured with salty tears. 

“C’mon, let’s get somewhere safe,” he distantly heard Reno say, and then Tseng was helping him to his feet. Adrenaline lent his body new strength, and he barely needed Tseng’s help as they made their way into a nearby empty building. Reno and Rude went straight back out again to help in the fight against the Remnants, and Elena tactfully informed Rufus that she would stand guard.

Alone, Rufus pulled Tseng in for a full body hug, his hands all over Tseng’s back, his shoulders, his face, making sure this wasn’t some fevered dream and that he was alright. Not quite alright, it seemed; there was a heavy bandage wrapped around his head and several smaller ones on his face.

“I can’t believe you jumped off a  _ roof,”  _ Tseng berated him, but Rufus ignored his chiding.

“You’re alive,” Rufus wept, unashamed of his tears as he pressed his forehead to Tseng’s. Those gentle hands held him tight, strong and sure on his arms, cupping his face, wiping the tears away as Rufus hiccupped and sniffled in a very unbecoming way.

“We almost died,” Tseng said quietly, guiding Rufus to a dusty old couch abandoned in a corner of the room. Rufus’ legs gave out and he collapsed down, Tseng's body breaking his fall. He wasn’t going to let Tseng go, not now. He reached up to touch his hair, stroking the fall of black silk, the smooth sensation grounding him.

“What happened? All Reno and Rude could tell me was that you’d been attacked and they left you for dead.”

“Vincent rescued us.” Tseng glanced away. “That’s twice he’s saved my life now. They—the Remnants—they tortured us.”

Rufus’ hands froze, caught up in Tseng’s hair. “What—what did they—”

Tseng grimaced. “I’d rather not talk about it.” His voice was low, his gaze not meeting Rufus’. “Suffice to say, I am relieved that Vincent arrived when he did. We are trained to withstand such treatment, but it was … difficult.”

Rufus took hold of Tseng’s hands, holding them tight, and pulled him close, his head resting on Rufus’ chest. “I didn’t think I could go on without you,” he said quietly. Outside, a light rain began to fall, and the patter of raindrops on the dry, dusty streets of Edge was almost soothing. “I wasn’t ready.”

Tseng looked up at him, his face unreadable, and his next words were so quiet Rufus almost didn't hear them.

“I will never be ready.”

For long minutes they stayed there, holding each other as the rain outside got heavier, until they were interrupted by Elena bursting into the room. 

“Come outside!” she yelled, rushing to the couch where Rufus was curled up on Tseng's lap and grabbing Rufus’ hand. “You have to come outside!”

“What—“

“The rain! It’s a cure!”

“What do you mean?” Rufus asked, but Tseng was already getting to his feet, helping Rufus stand up, putting his arm around Rufus’ waist to help him to the doorway. Outside, the streets were full of people dancing, shouting, laughing, embracing. 

“What’s going on?” Rufus asked, frowning, as Tseng and Elena dragged him into the street, into the pelting rain. It soaked him in moments, cool and refreshing.

The pain of his geostigma had been a constant presence for months, a grating, grinding, bone-deep ache, always there, some days worse, some days better, but never entirely gone. Rufus took a deep breath, and his eyes widened when he realised it didn’t hurt, didn’t make his lungs ache like he had climbed a mountain. He straightened, pushing Tseng and Elena away, and raised his bandage-wrapped arms to the heavens.

A cure.

A  _ cure. _ Where it had come from, he didn’t know, nor did he care. He ripped the bandages from his arms, his throat, pulled his shirt off and tore off the bandages on his chest, watching in awe as the black lesions vanished before his very eyes.

He looked at Tseng, standing there watching him in disbelief, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “Rufus—” he started, and yelped when Rufus picked him up around the waist, whooping in excitement as he spun his Turk around and around and kissed him under the sky as it wept with joy.

~~~

“He’s finally gone,” Rufus crowed, his voice filled with joy as he spun Tseng around in the middle of the President’s Office at the top of the Shinra Tower. “I’m free, you’re free, we’re free of him.”

Tseng let out an uncharacteristic laugh, a broad grin decorating his usually stern and taciturn face as Rufus put him back on his feet. He reached up and cupped Rufus’ chin, guiding him in for a kiss, something they had until now only dreamed of doing in such a public place. Rufus didn’t care if one of the Directors walked in and saw them, didn’t care if rumours spread throughout the building: his father was dead, he was President now, he had his Turk by his side, and there was nothing they could not achieve together. 

“I have an idea,” Rufus said, breathless. Tseng kissed him again, stroking his hair, and raised an eyebrow. 

“We’re not having sex on your father’s desk,” he said firmly, and Rufus sighed. 

“Technically, it’s mine now,” he pointed out, and Tseng rolled his eyes.

“I would prefer your bed,” he said, running a finger down Rufus’ jaw. “Perhaps I will use those silk ties on you and fuck you until you scream.”

Rufus’ eyes lit up and he took Tseng by the hand, dragging him out of the large, impersonal office and towards the lift.

~~~

There was a celebration the night they all returned to Healen Lodge, the patients and their friends and families eating and drinking beside the bonfire, laughter and singing echoing through the complex. Rufus stayed as long as was proper before dragging Tseng away and hoisting him up in a bridal carry, ignoring his protests and taking him back to their room. 

"Rufus!" Tseng's breath left his lungs in a grunt when Rufus dropped him onto the bed, climbing on after him and smiling down at him as he leaned in for a kiss, slinging his leg over Tseng’s hips. It had been a long time since he’d been able to do this, his wasted limbs not cooperating with his desires, and he took advantage of his renewed energy to deftly strip them both of their clothing. Before long they were naked, and Tseng was only too happy to lie back and let Rufus do what he wanted.

He still remembered their first time together, the way he’d pushed Tseng onto his back and ridden his cock until they were both cursing, sweating, hands desperately clutching at each other in their lust. Rufus had leaned down to kiss Tseng as he thrust up into him, his hands clenched tightly on Rufus’ ass as they kissed, messy and filthy and interspersed with moans. He’d come all over Tseng’s stomach just from having his cock in his ass, his eyes wide open as he watched Tseng lose himself in orgasm just after Rufus. He looked beautiful, his head arching back, Rufus’ name on his lips, his soft cries echoing through Rufus’ bedroom as rain lashed the windows of Shinra Tower. They’d been so young, so full of ambition, with no knowledge of what was to come and how their relationship would be tested again and again.

Rufus wanted to take his time, now. He lay next to Tseng, their legs intertwined, warm skin pressed together from neck to toe. He could feel Tseng’s arousal, pressing into his hip, but for now he was content to lean in and kiss him, revelling in having his Turk back at his side. Soon he'd push Tseng onto his back and slide down onto him, drive him wild as he slowly took his pleasure until Tseng snapped and wrenched control from him. But they had all night—they had the rest of their _ lives— _ and Rufus was in no rush. 

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” Tseng murmured, kissing Rufus' neck where until recently he had been covered by bandages. Rufus sighed, closing his eyes and letting arousal wash through him as Tseng sucked new marks into the sensitive skin. 

“What do you mean?” Rufus eventually asked, leaning back on an elbow and gazing at Tseng.

Tseng touched his face. “The knowledge that instead of months, we now have years. A lifetime. I had not planned for more than tomorrow, next week, maybe next month.” He looked down, his face crumpling. “I couldn’t bring myself to make plans for after you died.” His voice cracked, and Rufus pulled him close, letting him press his face into Rufus’ collarbone as he choked back sobs.

“My love,” Rufus breathed, kissing Tseng’s head, tilting his face up so he could kiss his forehead, the mark between his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, his lips. “We have the rest of our lives."

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sherribon on twitter.


End file.
